


Come On, Come On

by ritsuko



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Flirting, M/M, Pick Up Lines, come on lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Spock really sucked at pick up lines.</p>
<p>. . . and the one time that it worked. Kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On, Come On

He has seen the captain do it a hundred times, but the delivery of one of these lines, deemed flirtatious by human standards, still escapes him as being useful or practical. Still, all sorts of potential partners titter and bat their eyelashes at the terrible comments.

Spock has come to the point that he does not care anymore, it seems that none of his advances to this point have even been considered by the blonde. Jim always seems to respond well to the come on lines of others though. As ridiculous as they sound, he will use them as his last resort.

The first time, they are in the mess hall. Bones is sitting next to the captain, which is regrettable, but it cannot be helped. Spock cannot wait any longer, he wants to make his affections known to the captain NOW.

Spock sits down at the table, directly across from Kirk. The doctor raises an eyebrow at the Vulcan from the captain's left, but he pays him no mind. Jim is devouring his cheeseburger, and looks up at him curiously with crystal blue eyes.

"What's up, Spock?" He asks between mouthfuls.

Spock delicately raises his spoon full of soup to his perfect lips and sips tentatively, chocolate eyes meeting azure. He swallows, licks his lips, and asks:

"Your boots are aesthetically pleasing, Captain. Shall we fornicate?"

The milk that McCoy had been drinking was suddenly spraying across the table as the doctor spit in shock.

Jim's eyes ripped from Spock's, and stared at Bones before bursting into laughter, tears rushing down his cheeks as the doctor continued to sputter, staring in dubious wonder at the Vulcan.

"Oh. My. God. Spock!" Jim wiped tears from his eyes, hiccupping from his torrent of laughter. "Was that a joke? That was _GOOD_!"

Spock grimaced. He could tell Bones knew it was no joke. Unfortunately, the captain was as clueless as ever.

-*-*-*-*-

The next time he tried was probably not the most opportune either. They had just beamed up from an arid hell of a class M planet, one that had actually seemed quite like home to the Vulcan, and their beam up was a little rougher than intended due to a sudden dust storm. Kirk was coughing and rubbing his eyes.

"Dammit, Scotty, what was that?"

"Don' blame me, I dinnae ask the wind to stir all o' that shite up!" The Scotsman complained, and Kirk looked over at Spock.

"Are you okay?" He asked and the black haired man coughed lightly.

"I am fine. Are you injured?"" Spock asked. Jim coughed once more and looked up at his first in command. 

"I think I'm-" Jim started, patting dust out of his uniform.

Spock uncharacteristically interrupted him. "Because it must have been painful when you descended from the theoretical Elysian fields that you humans like to depict as some sort of afterlife."

The Vulcan was very aware of two sets of eyes upon him, one who was clad in command yellow, and the other in engineering red, mouth agape.

Jim cleared his throat. "Spock, maybe you should go see Bones. I think that dust storm might have rattled your brain a little. For a matter of fact, I think I'm gonna go too." The captain rubbed his watery eyes one more time, and then exited the transporter room. 

Grimacing, Spock knew that he had been misunderstood again. Scotty slightly cleared his throat, and he fixed his mahogany eyes upon the other man.

"What. . . what in hells blazes was all o' THAT supposed to mean?" The Scotsman asked, fully confused.

It was then that the Vulcan realized that he would need to enlist help to make it through to his captain.

-*-*-*-*-

He spent the next couple of days observing others in their tactics of flirtation. Most of the lines that were uttered between the interested party and their intended were utterly ridiculous, and made absolutely no sense as to why anyone would find them attractive. But the most nonsensical and lewd pick up lines are the ones that seem to work the best. 

The ones that he has heard circulating in the rec hall by the after hours replicator sound incredibly vile, and depict practices not common in Vulcan physicalities. But then, Spock has never been physical with another Vulcan. Or anyone. The thought of doing such a thing with the captain actually sounds quite pleasurable.

Jim is sitting in the rec room, a glass of brandy in hand and a PADD in the other. He almost looks so absorbed in his reading that the Vulcan almost leaves him alone. 

Almost. 

Spock sits next to the captain and crystal blue eyes take note of him. "Hey Spock, how's it going? Pretty boring day, huh?"

"It was adequate, sir." Spock eyes the PADD. "Are you busy?"

"Aw, no, just catching up on a little reading. You up for a game of chess?"

"As always Captain, I am ready for your nightly pounding." Spock states, and is rewarded with a quirked eyebrow. The Vulcan feels pride even with the lewdness of his comment, for is seems that maybe, finally, he has gotten through to the blonde. But then it is gone, the other man sloughs it off as a slip of the tongue and starts to reach for the chess set.

"I guess I will go first then?" Jim says as he starts to set up the board, but Spock shakes his head, rearranging the pieces. 

"I plan on covering your side of the board in white, so you had better be ready to finish last." Spock states clearly, looking at the Captain through his eyelashes in a way he hopes looks seductive.

Jim's jaw drops nearly to the table. He swallows, and blushes slightly. Good. Spock knows now that he is finally getting results. Slowly, he reaches his hand over to one of his pawns, about to touch it in a suggestive manner. The blonde licks his lips, staring hazily up at the other man. Oh yes, Spock thinks, finally, I am finally getting through-

They are thrown to the floor as the ship rocks, chess pieces spilling everywhere. All is forgotten as he and the Captain race to the bridge, to find out what has happened to their ship.

-*-*-*-*-

It takes several days to gather his courage from his last attempts. Life aboard the ship has been hectic anyways, due to the Enterprise colliding with a sizeable chunk of space debris on Beta shift. It has made Jim paranoid to go off of shift, and so the Vulcan also decides to pull the long hours with him. The Captain repeatedly tells him that he doesn't need to, but Spock does it anyway.

Kirk looks delicious in his rumpled uniform, and the Vulcan knows he has been catching stray hours of sleep in the ready room. The man is obviously exhausted, about to nod off in the command chair. His head slightly falls to his chest every few minutes, and then quickly it snaps up as Jim realizes he is starting to doze, only for the process to repeat itself.

"Captain," Spock walks up to the side of the chair, and the blonde looks sleepily up at him. "You must be tired. You should go and rest for awhile."

"No, Spock," Jim drawls, voice thick with fatigue. "S'all good. I've got another three hours in me."

The Vulcan tries to think of something to say, lines coming to him about things he wishes he could put in him, but none of them seem appropriate as they are on duty. "I must insist, Captain, you are tired. Even your clothing is in disarray."

Blinking, Jim looks down at his uniform quizzically. "What's wrong with my uniform?"

"Firstly, it looks like you have been sleeping in it. Secondly, it would look much better neatly folded on top of my dresser." The Vulcan manages to work a line in, and in front of him he hears Chekov, mumble something in Russian. He pays it no mind. Jim stares up at him in confusion, trying to process what has just been said to him.

Finally he relents and rises. "Fine Spock, you have the conn, as long as you're not exhausted. I need some Z's. Things are starting to not make any sense anymore. . ." Jim yawns, and makes his way to the turbolift. Spock groans internally, almost wishing that he could follow Jim to his quarters. With a slight grimace, he sits in the chair, fully aware that Pavel is looking at him from the corner of his eye. 

"Better keep your eyes ahead, Ensign. It won't do to not pay attention to the task at hand." Spock intones gravely, and the Russian makes sure to keep his eyes fixed ahead.

-*-*-*-*-

Yet again, they are in the mess hall. Spock programs the replicator for his tea and Plomeek soup with a despondence that is not normal for the Vulcan, but most people are paying attention to their own plates, not Spock's mostly neutral face. He makes his way over to the table that Jim, Bones, and Sulu are sitting at, eating and chatting. Jim grins as he comes over, and Bones quickly swallows his drink and pushes the rest away, quite possibly because he doesn't want a redux spit take. Sulu looks up curiously, but continues to eat.

"Are you feeling better, Captain?" Spock queries, and the blonde nods, still scarfing down his pizza at Warp 9. Sulu forks another mouthful of salad. Bones lays his fork down and stares expectantly at the Vulcan, and Spock wonders if somehow the doctor has radar for terrible come on lines. He raises an eyebrow, but Bones just arches one back. It seems he will not eat as long as Spock is there.

No matter.

"Are you enjoying your pizza, Captain?" He watches out of the corner of his eye as Bones folds his arms over his chest, and gets slightly irritated that the man seems to be taking some of Jim's focus.

"Yup, it's pretty good. I'd offer you some, but, y'know. Cheese. . . pepperoni. You probably wouldn't like it." Jim states, as if just the thought of not liking either food is audacious. But he is right, there is no way that Spock would be remotely interested in putting either in his mouth. 

"Perhaps the next time you should try Vulcan cuisine." Spock takes a sip of his tea, and Bones rolls his eyes. Sulu looks up quizzically, a piece of lettuce dangling from his lips before he licks them, and it disappears. 

"Aw, c'mon Spock, your soup is so bland though. Isn't there anything on Vulcan that tastes good? And not like grass clippings?" Jim whines, and Bones snorts through his nose. He looks as if he might reach for his drink again, and Spock throws him a challenging look. 

"There is one thing that might interest you. If you were to consume a small percentage of Vulcan DNA, it is highly rich in protein." Spock responds mildly, and he can see the wheels in Jim's head moving, working it out. Realization starts to dawn in the other man's eyes and the Vulcan knows that finally his time has come-

Sulu is quicker. It seems that the helmsman is choking on a bit of stray salad, eyes wide in disbelief as Bones jumps up to clap him on the back, and then change over to the Heimlich maneuver. After several attempts, a stray piece of Caesar salad encrusted chicken shoots out of Hikaru's mouth and straight into the Plomeek soup.

"Holy crap, Sulu, are you okay?" Jim worries, and the helmsman can do nothing but stare in shock at the Vulcan. "Lemme get you some water." Jim pushes away from the table and Bones shakes his head.

"Spock, lemme give you some words of advice: You suck at this. This is Jim we're talking about. He might be smart about some things, but not this. You gotta be blunt." Bones pat's Hikaru on the back. "But please, do it somewhere where you're not gonna inadvertently kill another crewmember?"

Jim comes back to the table, and Spock excuses himself.

-*-*-*-*-

Days pass. Spock is definitely sure that after five miserable attempts to garner the Captain's sexual attentions, there is no point in trying anymore, regardless of what the doctor has said. It seems that Jim, while being flirtatious and interested in just about every other member of the crew, can find no reason to be attracted to his Vulcan first officer. 

Fingers steepled, the raven haired man loses himself deep in thought, half in meditation, half in an emotion that would be considered self pity, if he allowed himself such a feeling. Things just were this way, and there was no escaping it. It realistically would not do to have the two of them engaging in sexual relations anyway. 

There is a soft chime at his door, and chocolate eyes glance up, noting the time as they do. 1200 hours. At this time of night with no alarms, there are very few people that can be waiting behind the door.

"Come in," he calls, and the door locks disengage. Jim steps through the door, smiling but looking slightly embarrassed. "Captain, whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing, Spock, I just uh, can we talk? I just uh, I feel like we. . . we might be miscommunicating? And I don't want you to feel weirded out because I'm. . . because I'm being stupid." Jim replies lamely, fidgeting slightly in front of the other man. Spock sits up in his bed and starts to rise, but the captain comes over and sits next to him.

"Anything you wish, Captain." Spock states, drinking in the sight of the other man with his eyes, wondering if he should reach out and touch Jim's cheek, what he would do. 

The blonde turns to him. "Spock, we're good friends right?"

"Of course, captain." The other man nods sagely, and Jim looks slightly irritated.

"Jim. You can call me Jim." The blonde licks his lips in exasperation.

Spock acquiesces. "Of course, Jim."

"Well, we're just friends, right?" Kirk starts and then gives a cute little half laugh, scrunching up his nose. "I mean. . . it's just. . . lately I feel like-"

"Lately you feel like I have been delivering lines to you in an attempt that you should want to engage in sexual intercourse with me." Spock confirms, and Jim's eyebrows shoot up. "You would be correct. I have tried everything from comparing you to angels and complimenting your footwear, to even suggesting you eat my semen. It would seem that I am incredibly terrible at Terran flirting."

The blonde's mouth cutely mouths words but no sounds come out, cheeks flushed and pink. Finally, he manages weakly, "You were TRYING to have sex with me?"

"I was merely suggesting it. Unfortunately you either did not understand my intentions or the circumstances were surrounded in bad luck."

Kirk nearly explodes. "How the hell could I understand what you were saying? Most people say, 'Hey baby, did it hurt when you fell from heaven', or 'Nice shoes, wanna fuck!' Not all this coded crap."

"I am not most people, Jim. I am a Vulcan."

Kirk rolls his eyes. "You are such an asshole."

Spock's cheeks tinge green in indignation. "I am not the one who needs it blatantly spelled out for me."

"Well, then Mr. Smartypants, why don't you give me another one and I'll tell you ridiculous it is." Jim crosses his arms over his chest haughtily, but they don't stay there that long. Spock leans in, lips crashing to the blonde's, lips and tongue tearing at each other, sucking and nipping and feeling amazing. They come apart, a slight trail of saliva still connecting their mouths.

"Jim." Spock intones, voice husky with pent up attraction. "I want to have sex with you. Now."

Jim smiles broadly. "I thought you'd never ask." The Vulcan is knocked back onto the bed, and all thoughts of flirtation turn into touches.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write this as in character as possible. Poor horny Spock. I am so sorry. . . not. :p


End file.
